


Revelation

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Harry Potter Next Generation, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-15
Updated: 2008-12-15
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Harry drops by with breakfastWorth the Risk #29





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

“Hermione? Hermione, wake up. If you don’t wake up right now, I’m going to do something drastic. I don’t know what yet, but it’ll be bad, so just wake up.”

The annoying shriek won’t stop, even after Hermione shifts and swats at it. She frowns and swats again, refusing to open her eyes. If she doesn’t open them, then she’s not yet awake. It’s irrational, of course, but she can’t very well be logical all the time. Besides, there’s a chance that she’s still sleeping, because it’s just like her to have a dream involving someone saying her name and making ridiculous threats.

“Seriously, Hermione. You’re worrying me, so just open your eyes and say something rude.”

“I’m not rude,” she mutters crossly, pulling the sheet above her head as she ignores the voice, which is sounding more and more like Harry as she drifts into complete consciousness.

“Are too. Especially when you’ve not yet had your coffee.”

She frowns and slowly lowers the sheet until she can peek over the hem. When she opens her eyes, she sees Harry kneeling next to her looking worried and serious. “You have your serious scowl on,” she murmurs, blinking at him as she debates whether this is actually some sort of odd dream or if Harry is actually in her bedroom for some unknown reason.

“And here I thought it was my ‘my best friend is scaring the hell out of me’ frown.”

“Don’t be a smart arse this early in the morning.”

“It’s not that early.”

“It isn’t?” She blinks at him again and lowers the sheet more as she turns to look at the clock. Instead of seeing it, however, she sees the wooden base of the bedside table. “I’m on the floor.”

“You’re also, uh, naked,” Harry says with a wince. “Found that out when I tried moving you.”

“Oh, honestly, Harry. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as she tries to wake up fully.

“You were eighteen and your, uh, those things certainly didn’t look like _that_ ,” he points out as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looks anywhere but at her chest.

“They’re called breasts. And at eighteen, I hadn’t had two children that I nursed. You saw them then, too,” she reminds him as she reaches up to run her hand over her face.

“I know what they’re called, Hermione, but they weren’t breasts when you were nursing. I mean, they were, obviously, but they were, uh, food delivery units. Right. That’s what they were. And that doesn’t count on the embarrassment scale regarding a bloke seeing his best friend’s naked, uh, things.”

“Great. I have _things_ that have somehow become misshapen in the last twenty years to a point that my best friend can’t even call them breasts.”

“Can we please _not_ talk about you being naked? I’m doing my best to forget that right now, which is difficult when you keep muttering about bits and bobs.”

“You’re so virtuous that it’s sickening, Potter,” she tells him with a nod of her head, that turns out not to be a good idea because it pulls at muscles in her neck that _hurt_. “Bloody hell.”

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. “God, when I showed up and you weren’t downstairs I got so worried, and then I came up here and your bed is a mess and I found you lying on the floor and you looked so still and…don’t ever scare me that way again.” He hits her shoulder harder than is necessary, which makes her thwap his arm.

“Don’t break into my home on a Saturday morning and proceed to abuse me,” she warns him as she slowly sits up. Her head is killing her and her body aches, most likely from her sleeping on the bloody floor. She shifts and her sheet falls before she can catch it. She reaches for it and pulls it up but can’t resist saying, “Oh no, Harry. It’s naked _things_.”

“You’re such a bitch in the mornings,” he tells her bluntly. “You’re lucky that I’m used to it or you’d be finding a new best friend.”

“I need coffee to be nice,” she says with a slight pout. After she’s sitting up and leaning against the bed, the events of last night start coming back to her. It’s a sign of how exhausted she was by the time she fell asleep that it’s taken her this long to remember. Teddy, the fight, him walking away, cleaning until she was too tired to move. She puts her hand over her face and sighs as she tries to deal with the memories while Harry’s sitting right there.

“There’s coffee downstairs, but I’m not sure if you need it yet. You look like shite.”

“I love you, too.”

“Love means being honest, brutally sometimes.”

“The fact that you’re reciting my own words back at me is rather annoying, you know?”

“Now you know how I feel when you quote verbatim from some offhanded remark I made fifteen years ago.”

“Hmph.” She drops her hand and glances up at him. “Why are you here, anyway? Besides tormenting me with sarcastic wit when I’m at a slight disadvantage.”

“You think I’m witty? You _know_ I‘m not witty, which means there must be something wrong.” He frowns at her and puts his hand on her forehead. “Maybe you’re sick. Do you feel feverish? I’ve heard there’s a virus going around.”

“I’m not sick. I just had a rough night,” she explains. “I couldn’t sleep, so I started cleaning. Until about four this morning.”

“Cleaning? Until four this morning?” he repeats slowly, staring at her intently. “This is worse than I thought. I mean, I saw the kitchen when I got here and things looked abnormally shiny, but I was too concerned to pay that much attention to it.”

“You know, as much as I love our best friend bonding time, I think it might be more comfortable if I got dressed and we went downstairs.” She hears him muttering to himself, which worries her because Harry knows her better than even Ron (at least, in the majority of non-husbandly ways), and she’s not in the right place at the moment to be unaffected by losing Teddy.

“Right. Clothes are good,” he agrees. Instead of getting up and leaving, he stands up and goes to her wardrobe, removing a dressing gown from a hanger. “You can shower and do all your girly routines after I leave. Right now, I think we need to talk.”

"Right. Because I have _so_ many girly routines."

He tosses her the dressing gown, and she glares at his back when he turns around to give her privacy. Real privacy would be leaving her bloody room so she could go to the toilet, brush her teeth, and try to get her emotions under control. She stands up and cringes at the soreness in her back and legs. She’s too bloody old to be sleeping on the floor, obviously.

"Shut it. There must be some, and if you disappear into the shower, you'll just stay there until you feel ready, which might be before I retire, but I'm not counting on it."

Bloody hell. He knows her too well.

“I have to pee,” she tells him in her ‘I haven’t had coffee yet’ cranky voice. “Are you planning to go with me to the toilet, too?”

“You know, I think Fleur might love to have a best friend. Perhaps I can suggest that she owl you for tea and shopping once I resign my post,” he muses in a far too perky ‘I love mornings and don’t need caffeine’ voice.

“You’re evil, Potter,” she accuses as she starts to slide her arms into the sleeves of the gown. She stops and smirks slightly as she folds it over her arm instead. She walks to the bathroom and lightly smacks the back of his head along the way. She imitates his voice, adding just a touch of whine because it makes him think he sounds feminine. “’I’m sure Fleur needs a best friend’, my arse.”

“Get that arse into the bathroom and do your whatever,” he tells her firmly before he squeaks, obviously having glanced after her. “I’ve got coffee and pastries downstairs, though I might not share if you keep smacking me and don't cover all the naked bits.”

“Being around me before I’ve had my coffee is dangerous, as you well know,” she says matter-of-factly. “You took that risk, so now you’re paying for it. Besides, they‘re light smacks, so stop being a baby. Also, quit acting like you've never seen bare skin before or I'll start to wonder how Ginny managed to have three babies.”

Before he can reply, she goes into the bathroom. After she uses the toilet and brushes her teeth, she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She _does_ look horrible. It’s obvious she didn’t sleep particularly well, and her eyes are puffy from crying. The worst part is that she doesn’t even have time this morning to wallow in depression even briefly because Harry’s here and then she has to go get Hugo. It’s really not fair that the world can’t just stop for a few hours when she’s hurting and needs a moment to just deal.

“Coffee’s getting cold,” Harry calls through the door. "Also, just a reminder, I'm a big bad Auror who already broke into your house; breaking in there won't be that hard."

"I wouldn't call using the Floo breaking in, Auror God." She glares at the door but the look softens as she thinks about what a great friend he is. No one else can tolerate her in the mornings as well as Harry. Teddy had potential, but he lacked the practical experience. Ron just avoided her until she’d had her coffee unless he wanted sex in the morning, which wasn’t that often because he never knew what sort of mood she’d wake up in and didn’t want to risk injury to certain important parts if he tried on a bad day.

Harry’s out there worried about her, scared when she didn’t wake instantly and assure him she was fine, and she’s behaving like a selfish cow by smacking him and taking out her anger and hurt on him because he’s available. She needs to get past this mood immediately because she just doesn’t have the time or opportunity to dwell on her loss right now.

“I’m done,” she says. After she opens the door, she smiles at him. “Sorry about earlier. I obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Literally,” he murmurs, smiling slightly as he pulls her against him and hugs her tight. “I can do this now that I know you won’t curse me.” He tightens his grip. “I really was scared when I couldn’t wake you up.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” she whispers, kissing his cheek as she pulls back. “I just couldn’t sleep very well last night, and I guess I was dead to the world.”

“Next time try sleeping on the bed. It works wonders,” he tells her, tugging on her hair before he ushers her out of the room and downstairs.

When she sees the bag of pastries and cups of coffee, she reaches with grabby hands and sips the hot coffee as if it’s a gift from heaven. Considering her current mood, it almost is. “What did you bring?” she asks in between gulps of coffee.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “I just pointed at things that looked good and didn’t pay attention to names.”

“Well, give me something that isn’t very messy, and then you can tell me why you’re here. We didn’t have plans this morning,” she says, studying him curiously. “Did something happen with Ginny or Lily?”

“No, they’re fine. Sorry I showed up without notice, but I was worried about you, and figured coffee and food would be a good bribe to make up for the lack of warning.”

“Why does everyone think that food is such a good bribe in my case?” she mutters as she reaches for some sort of cinnamon bread that looks quite tasty.

“Because it is.”

“Point.”

“So, sleeping on the floor?”

“So, worried about me?”

“Avoiding the question. And, yes, I was. Am.”

She frowns. “Why were you worried? Everything’s fine, Harry. The Warrington case is stressful right now, but I’ve had worse, even if it’s been awhile.”

“Everything’s not fine, so please do me a favor and remember that you’re talking to me and not one of three dozen other people who might actually believe that.”

“Okay. Maybe things aren’t _fine_ , but it’s nothing to be concerned about. It’s just been a long week, and I guess everything hit me last night,” she says, rather pleased that she isn’t lying, even if she is avoiding the complete truth.

Harry leans back in his chair and removes his glasses. After he rubs the lenses and puts them back on, he stares at her. “I know what happened last night,” he tells her simply.

She can practically feel the color draining from her face as she blinks at him. “Last night?”

“With Teddy,” he says more specifically. He’s looking at her with concern, and she feels like she can’t breathe. “That’s why I’m here this morning, to see if there’s anything I can do to make it better.”

“You know?” she whispers, glancing at her coffee cup as she tries to collect her thoughts. “And you want to help? You don’t hate me?”

“Hate you?” he asks slowly. “Why would I hate you, Hermione?”

She looks back at him and laughs, hoping it doesn’t sound as hysterical to him as it does to her. “Why? Because it’s wrong? Because he’s too young or I’m too old or he’s practically family or it doesn’t make any sense or I’m disgusting and depraved or he’s your Godson and I’m your divorced best friend or any number of reasons as to why I‘m crazy and this is just the biggest mistake I‘ve ever made.”

He frowns and shifts in his chair before he says, “You, uh, made a mistake? Is that, um, God. The sheets? Is that…you, uh, you and Teddy? On the sheets?”

“Well, we certainly didn’t on the floor,” she mutters, uncertain why he’s squeaking and looking baffled when he’s the one who brought it up. “How long have you known?”

“No, I’m asking the questions,” he says firmly. He sits forward and stares at her as if she’s someone he’s questioning at work. It makes her feel uncomfortable and nervous, and she hates that he’s looking at her in such a way. “How long has it been going on?”

She sighs and runs her hand through her hair. “About three weeks. Was. It’s not anymore,” she says softly, blinking at the fireplace as she bites her lip.

“Three weeks?” he repeats quietly. “You and Teddy. Our Teddy. For almost a month? And you didn’t tell me? Why the hell didn‘t you tell me, Hermione?”

“I don't know,” she whispers, leaning forward to sit her coffee on the table. She reaches for one of the pillows kept on the sofa and hugs it against her. “I thought he just had a crush, you know? And I was flattered and liked being desired, and, honestly, I guess I had a little crush on him, too, after working with him. So, when he asked me to dinner, I tried to say no because I knew it was wrong and too complicated, but he was persistent and, God, I really wanted to go, so I did. It just escalated from there. We started dating, but kept it a secret because I wasn’t sure if it was just temporary, and I didn’t want to take the risk of upsetting my life for something that might not last.”

“He’s only twenty,” Harry tells her. “You’re nearly twice his age, have had children and a marriage and an entire life before he was even born. God, you helped raise him! And now you’re shagging him?”

“He’s not a child,” she says. “He’s twenty years old and mature for his age. I know there’s an age difference, that was one of the main issues we had, and I know I helped raise him because that was the other. But I’m not his mother and I’m not related to him, and he’s not looking for a mum or surrogate parent.”

“If there’s nothing wrong with it, why did you hide?” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, tugging on it in the way that indicates he’s upset and frustrated. “If it wasn’t Teddy, the age wouldn’t be such an issue, but it _is_ Teddy. He’s my Godson, Hermione. I promised I’d look after him and take care of him, not lead him down a path of misery and heartache.”

“Being with me is misery and heartache?” she asks. “Well, it’s good that we ended it then, I guess. You don’t have to worry about him being miserable by wanting to be with me. See, this is why I didn't say anything. I was scared you'd react this way.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” Harry says. It’s difficult to tell by his tone if he’s considering what hex to use on her or if he actually doesn’t care, which she finds hard to believe. “You were scared of me? Why, Hermione? Why would you keep something like this from me? I mean, sure, I might not like it, might not approve, might think you’re mental, but you lied to me! You didn‘t trust me with something this big, and I can‘t believe---fuck.”

“Because I didn’t want you to be disgusted with me,” she says honestly. She looks up at him and sighs. “I didn’t want you to think what Ron obviously does, and because I didn’t want to disappoint you. I didn’t want anyone to know because I was scared of people’s reactions and what they’d think of us and how the children would be affected and what we’d have to face from friends and strangers alike.”

“You didn’t want me to be disappointed in you so you lied and kept me in the dark about something this important?” He shakes his head and laughs dryly. “God, Hermione, I’m disappointed in you _now_ , and we’ll never know how I’d have reacted if you’d just been honest.” He frowns and she can see the hurt expression on his face. "Wait, Ron knows? But you didn't tell me?” Harry curses and leans forward, resting his face in his hands as he puts his elbows on his knees. “How long has he known?”

“I didn't tell him, he figured it out and confronted me Wednesday. He went to Ted’s flat and they got into a fight. Ron has the insane idea that Teddy is after me because I’m some sort of conquest or that I’m just using him for sex, depending on what mood you happen to catch him in at the time,” she says. “He told me that I had to tell you or he would, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking similar thoughts about me. It’s bad enough knowing that the man I was in love with for over twenty years thinks I’d be such a cruel slag.”

“Ron’s an arse,” Harry says with a sigh. “Teddy isn’t that type nor are you. If you did something this stupid and dangerous, it’s obviously more than just sex. If you wanted that, you wouldn’t choose my bloody Godson.”

“Ron doesn’t want me, but that certainly doesn’t mean he’s ready for anyone else to have me,” she mutters. “He can move on and find someone to share his life with, yet I’m expected to just put my personal life on hold and take care of the children and be his best friend when he needs one.”

"I just can't believe you didn't tell me. I mean, God. We tell each other just about everything," he says. "And this is huge. I should have known. Hell, Teddy should have even told me. He's bloody well old enough to shag my best friend, he's old enough to be honest with me."

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, knowing it won’t mean anything but having to say it nonetheless. "It's not him, it's me."

“Don’t,” he warns. “This isn’t just about you, Hermione. I don’t care if it’s over or not, it still happened, and it still means he’s dealing with all this on his own. You’re old enough to know better but he’s too young to consider the consequences. He’s also sensitive and quiet, like his father, and this has to be killing him, the secrets and lies and having to hide how he feels. Don’t you remember how miserable Tonks was during our sixth year? It was bloody awful, and she wasn’t as vulnerable as Teddy.”

Her shoulders sag as she thinks about last night and can hear Teddy calling her selfish and accusing her of never considering everything he was risking. He’d been right, she realizes, which makes her feel nauseous and guilty. All these weeks, it’s always been about her worries, her concerns, her life, and she’s loved having the power. She couldn’t get hurt if she controlled it, after all. Only, she ended up getting hurt worse than she ever expected, and she can’t deny the emotions that she’s trying her best to ignore even now.

“I know you’re hurting, too,” he says quietly. “I can see that, even if I didn’t know that you’d been cleaning until nearly dawn and slept on sheets that I’d wager smell like him. You’re my best friend, Hermione. Even if you fuck up and make horrible mistakes, you’ll always be because you’re my sister in all the ways that really matter. But I’m hurt that you didn’t trust me and I’m so disappointed right now that I can’t even really put it into words. What happened last night?”

“I thought you knew.” She looks at him and smiles wryly. “Isn’t that why you’re here with bribes?”

He laughs weakly. “I was wrong. God, was I wrong,” he admits. “Last night, at the house, I began to suspect that Teddy was possibly infatuated with you, and when he left the party in such a hurry and then you were acting so weird, I stupidly assumed he’d been young and brash and tried to steal a kiss. That’s why I came by today, to see if he’d been a moron and made you uncomfortable. I had no idea---I mean, I knew something was bothering you. You’ve seemed happier, and I even thought maybe you’d started dating, but then you didn’t mention anything, so I figured I’d been imagining things.”

How had she been so foolish? After the confrontation with Ron, she had just assumed this is what Harry meant when he said 'I know'. If she'd just been more cautious, this could have been avoided. Of course, she couldn't very well put it off forever, so maybe it happened for a reason that goes beyond her obsessive need to assume she knows everything.

“We had a fight,” she tells him, deciding to be completely honest and just get it all out there. “Last night, during the blackout when Dean showed up, he kissed me, and I didn’t react well. I was so intent on keeping it a secret, being a selfish cow, that I didn’t realize how desperate he was getting to stop hiding. I guess Ron figuring it out and reacting so poorly was just the final straw for Ted. It just all came out when we talked, and he wanted more than I could give, and I needed time, which he couldn’t give me any more of, so I let him go.”

Harry raises his head and looks at her. “Do you love him?” he asks. “Teddy, not Ron.”

“I---” She blinks and slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know. No. Yes. Maybe. God, it doesn’t matter now, does it? It‘s over, and I can only hope that we can even be friends again eventually.”

“Unless that answer can become yes, I don’t want you around him,” Harry says. “I know I can’t forbid it and he’s old enough to make his own choices, even if I still think of him as being a child, but it’s not fair to him, Hermione. I don’t want or need details, but I’ve heard enough to know that he’s been hurt and I don’t want him to be any worse. So, please, even if you hurt and are lonely or, uh, well, horny or whatever, just let him be unless you can give him what he deserves.”

“I work with him, Harry,” she points out quietly. “He’s practically family. I’m going to have to be around him even when it hurts and I wish I was able to just forget about anyone else and go for it like he wants.”

“You know what I mean,” he tells her earnestly. “You’re not stupid, far from it, and you know how to be professional and polite without leading him on or trying to get him back just to have someone. You both deserve more than that. I just want you happy, Hermione, even now when I‘m shocked and hurt, all I want is for you to have a good life. It‘s the same with Teddy. He‘s my Godson, and he‘s extremely important to me. If you realize your answer to that question could eventually be yes, and he feels the same, I‘ll support you, even if I don‘t necessarily agree or approve. But, otherwise, this relationship isn‘t good for either of you.”

Harry’s being harsh, but she can understand his worry. If it was her child, which Teddy is close to being for Harry, she’d be even worse. Hearing him say that he’d support her makes her cry, and she feels so stupid for not trusting him all along. Things probably wouldn’t have ended up differently, because Teddy still wants more than she can give yet and he can’t give her the time she needs, but she should have known that Harry would stand by her regardless.

“I promise,” she whispers. “I’ll keep my relationship with him professional and friendly but I won’t hurt him any more than I already have.” She smiles wryly. “I really buggered things up but good. I guess I’m not nearly so smart and clever when it comes to my private life because I made the stupidest mistakes and behaved so selfishly.”

“Ah, Hermione,” Harry murmurs as he stands and moves to sit next to her. He pulls her against his side and brushes his fingers through her hair. “You did fuck up, quite a bit, sounds like, but we all make mistakes. I want to yell and rant at you for not trusting me, because that hurts far worse than the idea of you and Teddy having a relationship, but I can’t because, well, how many times have I fucked up and you’ve forgiven me?”

“Too many to count. And language, Potter,” she says with a sniff as she wipes her eyes on his shirt. She can hear him laughingly calling her a hypocrite at her scolding, and, despite everything she’s feeling at the moment about Teddy and their relationship, that makes her smile.

End Chapter 29


End file.
